


Gone

by DAForever62442



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types
Genre: Book/Movie: Prince Caspian, Brotherly Love, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Gen, POV Peter Pevensie, Post-Prince Caspian, Sibling Love, edmund pevensie needs a hug, movieverse, peter pevensie needs a hug, there is a lot of angst here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 09:11:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20654753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DAForever62442/pseuds/DAForever62442
Summary: How does it feel to come home, only to find it destroyed? Peter's POV throughout PC, from finding Cair Paravel to the night raid to the battle to the final goodbye. Continues with Peter's thoughts on leaving Narnia for the final time, and coming to terms with how he treated Edmund. (Repost from 2012/2013)





	1. An Age Forgotten

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this way back in 2012/2013 on fanfiction.net, before I started using AO3. I wanted to post some of my better fics here, so here we go. I didn't edit any of this, so take it as you will. I truly enjoyed writing this at the time, so I hope you all enjoy it even though it's old. Side note: All the author's notes and disclaimers are the originals from 2012/2013.
> 
> Original Author’s Note: Yes, I should be writing for Snapshots of a Golden Age. I’ve been wanting to write something like this for a while. It wasn’t really addressed in the book or the movie, and I think it’s important. I think Peter and the others would be upset, seeing their home destroyed like that. I’m quite proud of this, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I liked writing it. :) Reviews make my day.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: Generally, if you recognize it I don’t own it. This goes for quotes, characters, places, and situations. All rights to Walden Media/Disney and C.S. Lewis.

Edmund stops splashing, a curious look in his eye. “Edmund? Ed, what’s wrong?” Lucy, Susan, and I look at him expectantly. Edmund’s face is turned to the cliff near the sea. “Where do you suppose we are?”

“Well, where do you think?” Honestly, how many magical lands do we know? Edmund looks back at us, then at the cliff. “Well, I don’t remember any ruins in Narnia.”

I look at Susan and Lucy, who look just as confused as I am. Ruins? In Narnia? How much time as passed? Lucy turns to the cliff. “Let’s go check it out.” Ed, Su, and I readily agree and the four of us leave the water and head for shore.

The walk to the cliff is easy, just up the beach. There is a slope towards the top of the beach, making the walk easier. In no time the four of us are in front of the ruins. The ruins look familiar, somehow. I can’t place how, but I feel like I know this place.

My brother, sisters, and I walk around the ruins. Most of the walls are destroyed, piles of rock are everywhere. Much of the surrounding grass has grown up and into cracks in the stone floor. The place seems vaguely familiar, but I can’t place how. I should know this place, somehow.

I spot something shining near Susan and Lucy, who stand near the edge, overlooking the sea. Glancing around, I see Edmund round a corner, heading in the direction of our sisters. Curious, I follow him.

In Susan’s hand is a golden chess piece, a knight. The horse has ruby eyes, one of which is missing. The piece is scratched in places but otherwise in good condition. A look of realization spreads across Edmund’s face. “Hey, that’s mine. From my chess set.” Taking the piece from Susan as he speaks, he looks thoughtful. I, on the other hand, remain confused. “Which chess set?” I ask. Edmund looks as though the answer is obvious. “I didn’t exactly have a solid gold chess set in Finchley, did I?” 

“It can’t be.” My youngest sister has an odd look on her face, as if she has just realized something that maybe she didn’t want to. Lucy runs off and I follow her. Out of habit, mostly. I know she can take care of herself.

Somewhere along our short journey, Lucy grabs my hand, pulling me along. I follow her, wondering where exactly she’s leading me. Knowing her it could be almost anything.

She leads me to an open area overlooking the sea. It’s strangely familiar, as if from a half-remembered dream. Edmund and Susan have followed us here. Looking at them, I can tell they feel the same. Both of my siblings have curious expressions on their faces. Lucy puts her hand on my shoulders, turning me to face the sea. Susan stands on my left, Ed on my right. Just like old times. I realize with a slight start that we four have been sitting, subconsciously, in this very order this whole long year. Some things never change. Lucy grins. “Imagine walls, and columns. And a glass roof.”

Realization dawns on me, flooding my brain. “Cair Paravel,” I whisper. Edmund and Susan look at me, awestruck. There is pain mixed with the happiness in their eyes. In all of our eyes.

When we came here, none of us knew what to expect. We didn’t know how much time had passed in Narnia, what we would find here. But it sure wasn’t this.

I almost can’t believe it when Edmund points out the catapults. Since when are there catapults in Cair Paravel? His words, spoken with suppressed anger, send a chill down my spine. “This didn’t just happen. Cair Paravel was attacked.”

Those four simple words, “Cair Paravel was attacked,” bounce around in my head. Who would do such a thing? So many years have passed in Narnia, only one miserable year in England. This isn’t the Narnia I remember, and I resent that. I knew where every tree was, every river. I knew the land better than the land of England. To see Cair Paravel like this, in ruins...it’s unnerving. Everything about Narnia has changed. I thought that our home, our castle, would at least remain the same. Before now, in England, all I wanted was to see Cair Paravel. Now to be here and find it destroyed...I don’t even know what to think.

From my position near the catapults I spot a door. If I’m right, this door should lead to the royal treasure chamber. I walk over to said door and start tearing at the vines covering it. “I don’t suppose you have any matches?” I ask Edmund. My brother looks in his school bag, which he happened to be holding when we came here. “No,” he says, “But would this help?” He holds up the flashlight he had gotten for his birthday. I grin. “You might’ve mentioned that a bit sooner!” Edmund just grins at me and starts down the stairs, flashlight in hand. I allow Susan and Lucy to go ahead before going through myself.

I enter a vast stone chamber. A very familiar chamber. Amazingly, everything is still in order. “I don’t believe it. It’s all still here.” I manage a smile as I say this. Truly, after all this time I figured it would all be gone. Gone like the castle, gone like the Narnia I remember.

My siblings hurry over to their respective chests. A statue of the chest’s owner stands above each one. We’re older in the statues, adults. We look proud, respected. Everything rulers should be.

My brother and sisters open their chests, examine the items once so prized. Items that they have longed to see for the last year. Susan’s bow and arrows, Edmund’s armor, Lucy’s cordial and dagger.

I walk towards my own chest, staring up at the statue above it. It was so long ago. I was so much older then, so much more...everything. A better brother, a better king. My siblings’ next words sum up my thoughts exactly.

Lucy holds a dark green dress up to herself. “I was so tall then.” Susan looks at her, a sad smile on her face. “Well, you were older then.” Edmund looks up at our sisters, a helmet on his head. Even with that simple helmet he looks so much more Narnian. “As opposed to hundreds of years later, when you’re younger.”

My chest stands open before me, the treasures of an age forgotten gleaming. Rhindon lies on top, not even rusted to the sheath. Picking up my sword, I feel as if I’ve finally come home. Rhindon had seen many battles in our fifteen years as rulers, and I’m sure it’ll see more. Rhindon is solid, dependable. The exact opposite of how I feel right now. Having this one thing the same, in a world where everything has changed, is reassuring. When everything goes wrong, at least Rhindon is there. With Rhindon, I can feel at least somewhat in control.

I turn to look at my siblings, gaging their reactions. Susan and Edmund look grave, as if they have just begun to realize the enormity of the situation. Lucy looks as if she’s about to burst into tears. “All our friends...The beavers and Mr. Tumnus. Oreius. They’re all gone.”

This information hits me harder than I thought. I never thought about the impact the time would have on our friends. Oreius was the survivor. I never imagined him dying. And the Beavers and Mr. Tumnus. I would have liked to see them again.

So ignorant of me. I thought I had learned of death during our time as rulers. I thought I knew how quickly it could come, how a life could be changed before you even knew what was happening.

I was an adult then. Now, I’m only a child. I might have an adult brain and fifteen years’ worth of adult experiences, but I’m still a kid.

No. I don’t have an adult brain. I have the brain of a fourteen-year-old, not of a twenty-eight-year-old.

I think it’s about time we found out what’s going on here.


	2. Remember the Fateful Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author’s Note: I have decided to continue with the story (obviously). So now I’m writing three at once...let’s see how this goes. I want to do a post-PC thing, and I figure I can incorporate that into this story and kill two birds with one stone. I’ll have to skip over the less-important bits, so I’ll do the raid, the witch, the duel/battle, and England. 
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I don’t own Narnia, the characters, situations, or quotes. All rights to C.S. Lewis and Walden Media.

**** _“It doesn’t matter how greatly you’ve been hurt or how much you’re hurting, it’s what you do with the pain that counts.”_

_-Chris Colfer, _ _The Wishing Spell_

Caspian leads us into an underground room.Torches burn in sockets along the walls, animals and other creatures bustle around. Everyone is preparing for battle; making and mending weapons, standing sentry duty. Everyone knows what to do, how to make everything go as smoothly as it can during a war. 

Caspian leads my siblings and I down a hall. He notices our eyes wandering around, taking everything in. “Don’t you know what this place is?” All four of us shake our heads. Caspian looks at us strangely and continues down the hall. He shines his torch along the wall. Looking closer, I see that there are paintings on the wall. They look ancient, from our reign at least. The figures look familiar, as if from a memory. Wait...they _do _look familiar...they’re _us. _Susan, Edmund, Lucy, and me. During our reign, all those years ago. We look so proud, even in the drawings. It’s like the statues back in the treasure chamber. We four look like everything one would expect from royalty. 

The five of us pass through the chamber into a second one. A stone carving of Aslan is above a very familiar stone table. Realization hits me like a bullet. This is _the _Stone Table. The one where Aslan was killed all those years ago. I’m not sure if I should be mad or burst into tears. I can only hide behind a mask, pretend to be strong when I’m not.

As if on cue, my three siblings and I walk forward, toward the Table. I chance a glance at my brother and sisters. All look stony-faced and shocked. There is sadness in all their eyes, as if they are remembering that fateful day. We’re still projecting the image of royalty; hiding behind blank masks. Caspian may be incompetent, but we sure aren’t. We know how royalty is supposed to act: strong, with a heart of steel. The subjects look to their rulers for strength. 

An aura of great power hangs in the air, seeping into every surface. It tries to get into me, but I refuse to let it in. I recall the first time I heard Aslan’s name, all those years ago at the Beavers’ dam. I remember the bravery and adventure that had coursed through my veins, giving me the courage to carry on.

Now, in the underground chamber, I feel none of the old courage. I feel disappointment, and I know Aslan isn’t happy with me. Part of me wants to change so He’ll be happy with me. But there’s another, louder part of me that’s saying I can do it all alone. I don’t need Aslan or anyone else’s help. If Aslan was really going to help us, He’d be here. He’d be here, like last time.

In that instant, a lifetime of memories come flooding back to me. Aslan killing the White Witch at Beruna. The balls and the feasts, the battles and tournaments. Sea voyages and visits of state. The old Narnia. Everything we lost. I want to shout angrily, to burst into tears. How could Aslan have let this happen? How could he just stand by while our beautiful home was destroyed and conquered? How could he have allowed us to leave and sent Narnia into this? The Narnians driven into hiding in their own country, Miraz and the Telmarines on the throne. The landscape nothing like the one I knew so well.

I’m almost glad Cair Paravel is gone. I don’t think I’d have been able to stand the thought of Miraz living in _my _home; he and his men on my siblings’ and my thrones. Walking the halls of Cair Paravel...No.

Then I remember the state in which we found our castle. The columns and glass roof gone, the walls crumbled away. The beautiful paintings and tapestries gone. The gardens and orchard overgrown.The stone floor cracked and covered in weeds. Even the four white thrones were gone. 

The castle was the symbol of our reign. To see it destroyed is to know our reign has truly ended. The Telmarines really have taken over, erased all signs of the old Narnia.

I glance to my right at Edmund. It’s funny, we’re still in coronation order. We did this in England, too. Whenever we four sat together, it was always in the old order. Old habits die hard, I guess. Sitting this way, in our old throne order, kept at least one thing the same in England. One tiny reminder of Narnia. 

Edmund’s eyes are guarded. Usually I can read him like a book, but recently it’s become more difficult. There is a wall up behind his dark eyes, one even I can’t penetrate. Edmund’s been avoiding my eyes ever since we got here, to the How. I can understand. Honestly, I’ve been avoiding him too. I feel certain that meeting his eyes will cause me to finally break. First coming here and seeing Cair Paravel in ruins, now the Stone Table. A reminder of everything that happened with the witch all those years ago; right when we’re least expecting it. 

Lucy and Susan look devastated, a shadow over their eyes. If anyone’s remembering that day, they are. They saw it happen.

We follow Caspian out of the chamber. None of us want to stay any longer,  it’s all too painful. Outside, everyone is busy preparing for war. 

Can we even win this? Caspian has no experience, and I don’t know about the others. They look pretty well-trained, but it’s no proper army. Nothing like what Narnia used to have.

We have to attack their castle, it’s the only way. We can’t keep hiding forever. We keep hiding, and we’re dead. 


	3. Night Raid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author’s Note: Hope everyone in the U.S. had a good Thanksgiving! :D Time for the longest chapter yet! Poor Peter. He never does get a break. 
> 
> DISCLAIMER: Are these really necessary? I mean, if we writers owned Narnia, the characters, situations, etc, we wouldn’t be writing fanfiction. We’d be sitting in our mansions counting our money. I used dialogue from the movie, which I also don’t own.

_“Anger is a symptom, a way of cloaking and expressing feelings too awful to experience directly--hurt, bitterness, grief, and, most of all, fear.”_

_-Joan Rivers_

I want this raid to be a success. I want to prove to myself and the Narnians that I’m still a king. I can lead a raid and have it be a success; I can get the Telmarines out of Narnia. 

Flying in on the griffin, I can see the whole castle, dark and silent. Edmund’s flashlight shines in the distance, telling the griffins where to land. It was risky, sending Edmund in first. He is only eleven. On the up side, if anyone can avoid detection it’s him. It’s not exactly easy to get an entire army into a guarded castle unnoticed. 

We fight our way through, cutting down guards who might raise the alarm. I spot Reepicheep with his sword pointed at a guard’s throat. The guard looks shocked. “Yes, I’m a mouse. You people have no imagination!” I almost laugh at that. Almost, until I remember our current situation.

Caspian races up the stairs, intent on getting somewhere. Obviously having never been in the castle, I have little idea of where he’s headed. But I have seen the pictures Caspian drew when we were planning. I can tell he’s headed in the general direction of Miraz’s chambers. 

Why isn’t he going to open the gate? He already went against the plan by trying to save his professor. Now Caspian’s just making things worse. 

Susan and I follow Caspian into Miraz’s chambers. The first thing we see is that Caspian has his sword to Miraz’s throat. “Did you kill my father?” Caspian looks livid, Miraz calm. Miraz’s wife looks at her husband, shocked. “You said your brother died in his sleep.” Her crossbow is aimed straight at Caspian. “Well, that was more or less true.” The calm look never leaves Miraz’s face. He has, perhaps, accepted his fate.

“Come on!” Susan begs Caspian. He breaks his gaze on Miraz and turns to Susan, lowering his sword. We hurry down the stairs, leaving Miraz alone with his wife once more.

I sprint down a hall, intent on opening the gate. “Where are you going?” Susan questions. “Come on, our troops are just outside!” Doesn’t she see how important it is that the raid not fail? That we get those troops inside? 

Once we are back in the main castle, I can really see how bad things have gotten. Susan, Caspian, and I reach the wheel that will open the gate. I set right to turning it, intent on getting those troops in. This will not all go to waste. Susan and Caspian come over and help me turn the wheel. My sister looks at me. “Who exactly are you doing this for, Peter?” I don’t respond. I have no answer. 

** ********* **

I look behind me, toward the castle. At the spot where those soldiers have met their deaths. Being Narnians, they will not go down without a fight. But their efforts are fruitless. 

It’s not something you can forget easily. The images flash before your eyes every time you close them. The memories pop up when you’re least expecting it. The soldiers, some of them your friends, going to their deaths. Knowing that nothing anyone can do will change their fate. 

We walk toward the How, defeated. The wives and families of the soldiers look on, sadness apparent in every face. I’ve let down everyone here, let my arrogance get in the way. 

Lucy comes running out, looking beyond relieved. I think she thought we would all die in that raid, small as our numbers are. My youngest sister’s face turns to shock and grief when she sees how many were lost. “What happened?” Lucy asks me directly. I can’t help but snap at her. I try to keep my voice even, but it’s a losing battle. “Ask him.” I grumble, indicating Caspian. 

Caspian looks confused. “What?” I look at him. He really doesn’t know? “You were supposed to open the gate! If you had stuck to the plan, those soldiers would be alive!” Honestly, how stupid is he? I can feel the rage growing inside me, unstoppable. It’s like all the hurt and rage I felt at finding Narnia different has finally burst. 

“And if we had stayed here, like I suggested, they _definitely_ would be!” Caspian yells indignantly. “You called us, remember?” Caspian looks at me, rage burning in his eyes. His voice is cold and anger-filled. “My first mistake.” Well, he got one thing right. He has made more than one mistake. “No, your first mistake was thinking you’d leave these people.” 

Caspian looks even angrier, if that’s even possible. His next words are laced with venom. “I wasn’t the one who abandoned Narnia.” That simple sentence hits me hard. How dare he suggest that Susan, Edmund, Lucy, and I meant to leave. That we didn’t really care about Narnia. “No, all you did was invade it!” I know I’m making a scene, but I really couldn’t care less. I finally get to say what’s been in my mind since I met Caspian. “You don’t belong here! You, your father, everyone! Narnia’s better off without the lot of you.” My words have the exact effect I wanted. Caspian reaches for his sword at the same moment I reach for mine.

Our swords are actually out and pointing at each other’s throats when Edmund’s voice sounds from behind, bringing us back to our senses. “Stop it!” All heads turn to Edmund, who is sitting with Trumpkin at his feet. The dwarf is hardly breathing, and has a large cut on his face. Lucy rushes over, cordial in hand. 

Once she has healed Trumpkin, I head back into the How. I just need some time to think over what’s happened. The complete disaster we are now in. 

I find myself in the room with the Stone Table. I sit down and face the stone Aslan. Why isn’t He helping us? Why won’t He come charging in, like last time? I can sense that He’s not happy with me. I can’t really bring myself to care, somehow. If only He had just given me some proof, some shred of evidence that He’s helping us. 

How could it have been His will that all those soldier die?

It’s easier to stay mad rather than to admit to being wrong. It’s so much easier to blame Caspian. Anyone or anything but myself. I know it was my fault. I should have called it off. I could have called it off. But I didn’t. Pride wouldn’t let me. I can’t be wrong about things like this. I’m a king, I’m supposed to be good at judgement. I’m supposed to know what call is the right one to make. 

And boy did I make the wrong call. If I had just _listened_ to Susan, those soldiers would be alive. Their wives and children wouldn’t be grieving. We wouldn’t have an even bigger disaster on our hands. My stupid pride got in the way of my judgement. I’m becoming more arrogant than I thought. 

The Telmarines know how strong we are, and how much of a blow the night raid was. They know they can beat us now. The Telmarines know how we fight, and how many of us there are. They know almost everything they need to beat us. 

The raid was necessary. As Edmund said, if they’re smart the Telmarines would just starve us out. We had to go on offense eventually, we couldn’t keep hiding forever. If we want Narnia back, we have to actually _do _something. 

The raid made us seem a lot more confident than we really are. We fooled ourselves into thinking we could take a _castle_, as if it wouldn’t be guarded. As if we could just sneak in, magically defeat Miraz and his men, and gain control of an entire castle. All of which _I_ convinced the others we could do. Which makes this failure entirely my fault. 

The raid could have been a lot more effective if we hadn’t been found out halfway through. If I had just given the order to retreat, those soldiers would be alive.

How ignorant I’ve been, how arrogant. Ever since we got back, I’ve been thinking I can fix everything. That I need nobody’s help; that I’m the only one who has suffered. I thought everything would be the same; I thought the Narnians would welcome us back with open arms, desperate for our return to power. 

I hear footsteps in the passage and Lucy enters the chamber. She sits next to me, facing the stone Aslan. 

“I wish He had given me some sort of proof.” Lucy turns away from the stone Lion to look at me. “Maybe we’re the ones who have to prove ourselves to Him.”

I look over at her, confused. Haven’t we already done that? I look back at the stone Aslan. What is He doing? What is His plan?


	4. Poisoned Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author’s Note: Sorry about the wait, I got sidetracked. Battle chapter is nearly done, hopefully that will be up later this week. :) Honestly, this chapter was difficult to write. I feel like this scene has so much to write about, yet it’s hard to get anything going. It didn’t get as far as I’d have liked, it just felt done at a certain point. More for the boys to discuss later, I guess. I just realized I made a mistake in the last chapter...Lucy and Peter talk after the Witch scene, not the raid. Oops. As a writer I am allowed to take creative license I suppose. Hopefully this one’s free of major errors, I watched the movie as I wrote so I could check it.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I have to wonder why anyone would think I own Narnia, the characters, or the situations.

_“Words are, in my not-so-humble opinion, our most inexhaustible source of magic, capable of both inflicting injury and remedying it.”_

_-Albus Dumbledore, _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part Two

It’s been a few hours and I’m still sitting, thinking about what Lucy said. Haven’t we already proven ourselves to Him? All those years in Narnia, ruling in the name of Aslan? I’ve moved to another chamber, though. The Stone Table one was too easy to find me in, too predictable that I would be there. Where else would I be? 

I have to admit that the real reason I left is that I really don’t want to be looking at Aslan. He’s making no sense, not helping us at all. He’s the true king, and aren’t kings supposed to help their people? 

Suddenly, Trumpkin comes bursting in, Lucy, Susan, and Edmund hot on his heals. “We have trouble in the other chamber!” he says breathlessly. I’m on my feet immediately, grabbing Rhindon and following them out of the chamber. 

The sight that greets us is one I hoped I’d never see, and it draws any thoughts of Aslan out of my mind.

Caspian stands in a magic circle, flanked by a hag and a werewolf. His hand is extended, and I can see a long cut running along his skin. The circle is glowing in the torch light. Facing Caspian is a sheet of pure ice. Inside the ice is...I turn to get a better glimpse. Hatred courses through my veins at what I see. Jadis, her hand extending from her icy prison.

The first thing I am aware of is confusion. How in the world did _she_ get here? Aslan killed her years ago, she’s supposed to be _dead_! 

Edmund heads for the werewolf, drawing his sword as he goes. Lucy pulls out her dagger and starts attacking the hag, keeping her away from Caspian. I hear a commotion behind me and turn around. Lucy’s voice comes to me. My little sister sounds terrified, and in pain. What have they done to her?

I hear another voice, this one also familiar. Nickabrick. The traitor! He helped raise the Witch! I hear another yell and a thump. Turning around, I see Nickabrick fall, Trumpkin behind him, knife extended. 

Caspian still stands in the circle, a dazed look on his face. Without thinking, I push Caspian out of the way and step into the circle, my sword drawn in front of me. Immediately I feel the effects of Jadis’s magic. The way her eyes hypnotize, her falsely sweet voice luring you in. She is everything Ed told me she was. Hypnotizing beauty, cunning smile, poisoned words. 

“Peter,” she says in her icy sweet voice, one hand protruding from the ice. “I’ve missed you. Come on, just one drop. You know you can’t do it alone.” I’m tempted for a moment. For one heart-stopping moment I consider freeing her. I lower my sword. “Come on, little king. You know you want to.” 

I want to. I want to free her, I want all the power for myself. She can help me take Caspian off the throne. I’ll have my kingdom back. With her help, the old Narnia will return, greater than before. 

Images rush through my mind, each one more horrible than the last.Where’s Ed? I heard his voice, but now he’s gone. 

Suddenly, a crack appears in the ice in front of me. The crack spreads, and finally the ice comes down with a clatter. Looking up, I see Edmund where the ice once stood, sword raised. His terrified and hurt eyes meet mine. “I know, you had it sorted.” His voice is full of pain, fear, and betrayal. He stalks out of the chamber, Lucy at his heals. He won’t respond to me, and I know it, but maybe our youngest sister will be able to help him. Susan looks at me and Caspian. Her face screams confusion and a trace of disappointment. Then she, too, runs out after our brother. 

All I can do is stand there, shocked at what I might have done. What my actions, my stupid, selfish actions, could have done. To my family and to Narnia. To Edmund. Why would he be scared? He destroyed the enemy only minutes ago...Realization crashes onto me. _Oh Aslan, what have I done?_ I need to find Ed, I need to talk to him if he’ll let me. There’s no telling if he’ll let me in. I can only hope he still trusts me enough. Even if he doesn’t, I still have to try. 

Now more than ever I want Aslan to appear. I want Him to tell me what I should do, how to mend my bond with Ed. How to fix everything that’s gone wrong. How to be a king again. 

I exit the chamber, wondering where Edmund could be. He’s probably hidden somewhere. I wander down halls and into chambers, looking for any sign of my brother. He’s not in any of the chambers I look into. Of course, if he doesn’t want to be found my chances of finding him are slim. 

I spot Edmund in the final chamber of the How. His back is to me, his knees drawn to his chest. Hesitantly, I walk over and kneel beside him. Edmund merely turns his face away from me, plainly intent on ignoring me. Because that’s going to make this so much easier. I can almost feel the anger and hurt radiating off of him. 

“How could you do that? Better yet, _why _would you do that?” Edmund’s voice is laced with cold fury. “You _know _what she’s capable of, and you _still _tried to release her! You saw what she did last time!” Edmund pauses and shuts his eyes, trying to contain his fury. He gets up and stands in front of me, pacing. 

He continues, his voice slightly lower but no less angry. “You _know_ the effect she had-still has-on me!” I look anywhere but at Edmund. I have no idea what to say. I know saying sorry isn’t going to cut it. But I have to say _something_. What do you say when you know you’ve hurt someone you love-your own _brother_-as much as I have? What do you say, what do you do? 

“I-” I finally begin, though I have no real idea of what I’m going to say. “No. Let me finish.” Edmund finally turns to look at me. His eyes are full of fury, masking the pain and terror. “Why would you do that? You know how long it took me to recover the last time, and now I’ll have to start all over. You _know _what she did the last time!” 

More hurt and fear creeps into his voice with every word, half-concealing tears and anguish. “All the progress I made, all that time I spent freeing myself from her. And you just go and ruin all of that in the space of a moment.”

I can’t stop myself, I walk over and wrap Edmund in a hug. I have no reason to think he’ll accept this one, but I have to try. My brother resists at first; he has never really liked hugs. Eventually he leans into me, hiding his now tear-streaked face in my shoulder. 

I tense slightly at Edmund’s reaction. I had honestly expected him to refuse me. To just walk away and ignore me. He notices this, and pulls back to look at me. I merely give him a small smile and hug him tighter. 

“Were...were you scared of _me_?” My question sounds timid, unsure. Nothing like a king’s voice should. I have to know, no matter what the answer. Edmund merely stares at me, shocked yet thoughtful. “How could I be? No...more of what you could have done. What freeing Jadis would have meant.”

I imagine what that would be like. Narnia back to the start, how we found it all those (Narnian) years ago. Everything covered in snow, the good animals and dyads reduced to hiding.

My siblings and me taken prisoner, turned to stone or worse. Edmund the first to die, on the Stone Table. Su, Lucy, and I most likely forced to watch.

At this thought I collapse on to a rock, face hidden behind my arms, knees drawn to my chest. 

After a moment I feel Edmund sit beside me, an arm around my shoulders. Slowly I uncurl from my ball and turn to face him.   


There’s still that fear in his eyes, hidden behind a veil of compassion; noticeable only to someone who knows Edmund best. 

“She’s gone, Ed. She’s gone and she can’t hurt you or me or the girls or anyone.” Edmund leans back against me, not even bothering to wipe away the tears leaking from his eyes. “That’s what you said last time, and here she was, back again.” His voice sounds tired and confused. He sounds so young; it’s as if he’s nine again and asking why Dad has to fight in the war. I wrap my arms around him once more, offering what comfort I can. 

I don’t want to tell Edmund why all that happened. I know that’s what he wants. I know why the witch had that effect on me, why I’ve done what I’ve done. I know, and I don’t want to tell. Obviously Ed won’t judge me, but that’s not what I’m afraid of. I’m afraid of myself, of what I’ll think of myself. To admit to myself that I’ve been wrong this last year, that I’ve treated everyone unfairly.

I sit there with Ed in silence, both wanting to say something yet unsure how to say it.


	5. A Sword and a Cause

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author’s Note: I take back what I said in chapter three...this is definitely the longest chapter, at well over 3,000 words. I’m quite proud of it, and I spent a lot of time on it. :) I find fighting hard to write, maybe because it’s so visual. I know I said this would be up a long time ago, but school calls. Oh the joys of school. Namely a huge history project that took up a lot of my time for three months. So that kept me from writing for a while. I keep rereading and finding more things to add. So of course all of my excuses are lame. If only I could just sit and write all day. *sigh* I hope it’s worth the wait. I’m going to see this story through to the end, even if it takes longer than I would like.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: Are these really necessary? I mean, if we writers owned Narnia, the characters, situations, etc, we wouldn’t be writing fanfiction. We’d be sitting in our mansions counting our money. Or we would be C.S. Lewis and Walden Media. I took a lot of movie dialogue, which I don’t own either.

_“Never give in-never, never, never, never, in nothing great or small, large or pretty, never give in except to convictions of honor and good sense. Never yield to force never yield to the apparently overwhelming might of the enemy."-Sir Winston Churchill_

Ed rushes into the chamber where I sit, contemplating everything that has happened. “You’d better come quickly.” His voice is laced with urgency, making me only able to guess at what this is all about. But I have a pretty good idea. We run out of the chamber to the ledge overlooking the field in front of the How. Lucy, Susan, Caspian, and Doctor Cornelius are already there. I look to find my suspicion to be true, though it somehow manages to shock me nonetheless. In the distance, marching with astonishing speed, is the Telmarine army. 

***********

Not thirty minutes later we’re holding a council of war in the Stone Table chamber. “You’re going to send a little girl into the darkest part of the forest, alone, after someone who doesn’t exist?” Trumpkin sounds astonished. Susan stands up. “She won’t be alone.” I look around at the assembled troops, then back at Trumpkin. “We need to hold them off until Susan and Lucy get back,” I say with urgency. “We don’t have a choice.” The Telmarines are approaching, and fast. We’re Narnians, we aren’t about to go down without a fight. 

Caspian comes forward. “Miraz may be a tyrant, and a murderer, but as king he is subject to the traditions, and expectations, of his people. There is one that might buy us some time.”

************

Edmund has left to propose the duel, and I can’t help but question my decision. I don’t trust Miraz. At all. Nor do I trust the other Telmarines not to try anything. What if he ignores the peaceful intentions and attacks my brother? He didn’t bring his sword, he’d have no chance. Well, maybe a slight chance; he did wear his armor. And Glenstorm and the Giant Wimbleweather went with him, that counts for something. If Ed were attacked and I couldn’t do anything to stop it, I don’t know what I would do. I guess there’s nothing to do but wait. I pace back and forth in the Stone Table chamber, waiting for Ed to return. 

To my immense relief, Ed reappears forty-five minutes later, looking grim but unharmed. He approaches me alone, Glenstorm and the Giant Wimbleweather having gone off somewhere. I have stopped my pacing at sat down facing the stone Aslan. “He agreed. We set the time for midday tomorrow.” Ed goes on to describe the particulars of the duel. The weapons will be swords and shields. Single combat, no interference from either army. All the while his voice is kept determinedly even, hiding any fear and anxiety he must be feeling.

*************

Walking out to the duel, Edmund by my side, it feels like old times again. Competing in tournaments and feats of arms as kings. Even our armor has somehow been preserved after all these years. 

Except it’s not the same. My opponent is twice my age, twice my strength. I used to be undefeatable. I used to be the best swordsman in Narnia, apart from Ed and Orieus. Key word _used_.

This time, Ed can’t have my back and I can’t have his. We can’t be side-by-side and back-to-back anymore. It was always reassuring knowing I had Ed beside me in battle. Having someone right there to protect made me feel like I was doing something constructive, something at least a little right. That me being there counted for something; that I wasn’t just another fighter. 

Now I’m just a fourteen-year-old with a sword and a cause. I haven’t fought properly in over a year; I’m out of practice. How am I supposed to fight someone with at least twice my skill, someone who has been training from the moment he could pick up a sword? 

We near the stone area where the duel will take place, my nerves mounting. Miraz is already there, the Telmarine army behind him; as if he thinks he might need back up against a fourteen-year-old. The so-called king looks almost scared, as if he doesn’t quite know if he’ll win. Odd, considering I’m half his age and he has the advantage here. He has nothing to lose, nothing to worry about. Any fear Miraz is feeling is concealed by the malice in his eyes: an expression of the utmost contempt. 

I can tell Edmund’s nervous about the duel, despite his attempts to mask it. His eyes keep flicking to me, then back to Miraz, then back to me, as if he’s expecting Miraz to just run up and kill us right now. He doesn’t trust Miraz as far as he can throw him either.

Is Miraz just putting on a brave face to look good in front of his people? He knows how important images are to people’s morale. If their king looks worried, their worry will increase. Worried soldiers means less focus, which means a greater chance of losing. Miraz can’t risk loss. 

I can feel the tension building as Miraz and I circle each other, sizing each other up. “There is still time to surrender,” he says. “Well, feel free,” I retort back just to spite him. I can’t see Miraz’s face through his ridiculous helmet (seriously, who puts a mustache on a helmet?), but I can tell he’s angry. Perfect. “How many more must die for the throne?” I muster all the power I can and put it behind my next words. “Just one.”

Circling. Watching, waiting. Never breaking the stare, never revealing. 

Suddenly a cry comes from the man in front of me. All at once I find myself with 200-odd pounds of person carrying a large sword barreling towards me. I do what comes naturally, what I’ve been trained to do. What the whole purpose of this duel is. 

I fight him with all I’ve got.

I’ve never fought anyone like Miraz, even in all my years as king. His fighting style is anything but Narnian. He uses his weight to his advantage, putting his full strength behind his blade, which is what you’re expected to do. It’s the way he attacks: cold and calculating. He doesn’t care how much damage he does, as long as he wins and looks good in front of his people. Reminds me of Calormen soldiers. He doesn’t care that he’s potentially killing a child, even if that child titles himself a king. It doesn’t matter to Miraz, all that matters is winning. 

Miraz has skill, I’ll give him that. The world shrinks down to just the two for us, our swords clashing in the air, but no blood is drawn. After what seems like ages, I finally manage to graze Miraz’s knee. There is no triumph that comes with this, only an increased sense of urgency.

The Telmarine king staggers, holding his wounded knee. Astonished that I actually managed to injure him, he looks at me with wide eyes. Miraz looks angrier and more determined than ever. Miraz’s hesitation gives me time to come in for another attack. Fail. Miraz counters, and I’m forced to somersault around him, probably looking like a complete fool. Not that it matters. 

I recover quickly and stand up to face Miraz. His weight and size is coming in handy now, and he manages to knock me over again. Pain shoots though my arm as Miraz puts his full weight on my shield, digging the rim into my flesh.

Once more I recover, and once more I’m forced to stay on the ground. It’s all I can do to stop Miraz from slicing me to death. A cheer comes up from the Narnians as I mange to knock Miraz to the ground and get to my feet. 

I stand up just as Caspian returns with Susan. Noticing this, Miraz turns to me. "Does his highness need a respite?” His voice is laced with venom, almost mocking. I don’t want to sound weak, but my shoulder really does hurt, and I have to find out how Susan made out. “Five minutes?” Miraz practically spits his reply. “Three!”

I can feel the unease ripple through the assembled Narnians. They’re getting nervous. We never really talked about what would happen if I lost. Nobody really wanted to entertain the thought, so we just let it be. 

I walk carefully over to my sister with Edmund at my side, trying not to move my injured shoulder. Even small movements cause pain to shoot through it like a thousand knives carving into the flesh. “Lucy?” I immediately ask, searching Susan’s face for any sign that she or Lucy might be harmed. “She got through.” Susan glances at Caspian, and so do I. “Well, you were busy,” Caspian says almost modestly. I turn back to Susan. “You’d better get up there, just in case. I don’t expect the Telmarines will keep their word.” I look toward the ledge where our archers are stationed, Trumpkin among them.

Susan nods as she reaches across and hugs me. I wince as she touches my injured shoulder. “Sorry,” she says quietly. “It’s okay,” I reassure her. She doesn’t look entirely convinced, but lets the matter drop.

Ed turns to Susan, any nervousness carefully masked. “Keep smiling.” 

Susan nods and runs off, the Narnians cheering as she goes. 

Caspian grabs my arm, intending to help me stand. I wince as pain once again shoots though my arm. I had almost forgotten about it until now. I turn to Ed. “I think it’s dislocated.” Edmund looks unsurprised; he’s seen this enough times to know what a dislocated shoulder looks like. 

“I wonder what happens back home, if you die here.” I look up at Edmund. I need to tell him, I can’t...die...without him knowing, and this could be my last chance to tell him. “You’ve always been there, and I never really-AHH!” I’m cut off by my brother pushing against my shoulder, setting it back into place. More pain courses though my arm, leaving me gasping and wincing. “Save it for later.” Edmund’s tone tells me that there’d better _be_ a later.

Standing up, I notice Miraz do the same. His knee is bandaged, though he is limping a bit. Maybe I can win this. Miraz’s size will make him tire faster, especially in this hot sun. If I can just keep him from killing me for long enough, I might just have a shot at this. His weight should make him tire faster, especially in the sun. I might not be as strong, but I’m faster, more agile. I can keep going longer. Ed hands me my sword, but I decline my helmet. 

Miraz is at the stone area, sword at his side. I take advantage of his momentary lapse of attention to launch an attack. I launch my sword at the apparently unsuspecting king; only to find myself at sword point once more. Miraz fights back almost immediately. 

I fall to the ground for the third time, but this time I take Miraz with me. I kick him right in the leg, and he hits the stone hard. 

He gets up, attacking as he goes. As he gets closer, I grab his shield and twist under it, forcing his arms behind his back in a most painful position. I hold the Telmarine’s arms like that, making him unable to defend himself.

Miraz manages to get free, throwing me against a rock. Thank Aslan for armor, or I’d definitely be dead. 

I stagger up, stabbing my sword into Miraz’s already-injured knee. The king staggers, and falls to the ground. “Respite, respite.” He’s nearly begging at this point. I pause, unwilling to attack him in this state. Curse me and my chivalry. I guess Ed feels the same way, for he choses this moment to shout, “This is not the time for chivalry, Peter!” 

Turning away, I don’t notice Miraz get up and pick up his sword. “Peter, look out!”I turn to see Miraz right behind me, sword raised. Of course, I don’t have my sword at the moment, having stupidly put it down. If it wasn’t for Edmund, I’d probably have a sword in my head. So I do the only logical thing: I grab Miraz’s blade, forcing it into his unprotected underarm. Miraz falls to the ground, completely at my mercy. 

He looks up at me, seeming to accept his position and his fate. “What’s the matter, boy? Too cowardly to take a life?” I look back at him, my gaze steadfast. I am _not _a coward. “It’s not mine to take.” I face Caspian and extend Miraz’s sword toward the true king. I know this is the right thing to do.

Telmarines and Narnians alike wait with bated breath as Caspian takes the sword and raises it, pointing the blade directly at his uncle. Miraz says something I can’t make out, but it obviously has an effect on Caspian. He raises the blade higher, pointing it directly at Miraz’s forehead. “Ah!” Caspian screams. He rams the sword, not into Miraz’s head, but into a patch of grass at their feet. 

Aslan would be happy, I think. Caspian did exactly what He would have liked: he spared Miraz’s life. Caspian is not like Miraz, he wouldn’t kill in cold blood, simply for revenge and power. For that reason I am unsurprised that Caspian spared Miraz. 

Caspian and Miraz exchange a few more words which I don’t catch. I do, however, catch Caspian’s last words. “Keep your life. But I am giving the Narnians back their kingdom.”And with that, Caspian turns and walks back to me and Edmund. 

The Telmarine general lifts Miraz up, forcing something into the king’s back. that looks like a very familiar red-feathered arrow...

It happens before there’s even time for any of us to react. Miraz is dead before he hits the ground, the arrow protruding from his back. “VICTORY! They’ve murdered him! They’ve murdered our king!” 

All we can do is stand there, shocked, as the meaning sinks in. “Peter!” Caspian’s looking at something behind me. I turn around to see a Telmarine soldier heading straight for me, sword poised to kill. I run over, sword in hand. Once I’ve dealt with him, I turn back to the Narnians. “GO!” Caspian jumps onto his horse and heads for the How. At the same time, the general of the Telmarine army shouts, “TO ARMS, TELMAR! TO ARMS!” 

At once boulders fly through the air, launched from the Telmarine catapults. The flying rocks generate massive amounts of dust and create craters in the field. The ground shakes as the boulders hit, narrowly missing our army. 

I swear, almost nothing is scarier than a massive army heading straight for you. It’s something you never quite get used to. The Telmarine army is enormous, but we hold our ground. Rocks rain down; I can only imagine what it must be like in the how. I’m immensely glad Lucy’s not here. I would never let her participate in the battle, and she’d probably be killed in the How. Not that she’s much better off alone in the forest, but we need Aslan. We can’t win this without Him, I can see that now. I can’t do everything by myself. 

Ed and I stand together on the stone area, swords raised. Rocks continue to rain down, keeping the dust levels high. Really helpful when you’re trying to see your enemy so you don’t stab one of your own. Our archers stand on a ledge, bows loaded and at the ready, trying to get a shot through the dust. 

Caspian heads back into the how, ready to lead the soldiers into the battle. 

The Telmarine soldiers seem to sink as the ground below them crumbles. Horses skid to a stop, their riders falling off in the process. 

As the Narnians’ arrows fly through the air, I spot Edmund leaping onto a passing horse, crossbow in hand. 

Griffins fly through the air, archers hanging in their claws. The enemy never seems to tire. Every time we defeat one soldier, so many more come to take his place. Our efforts hardly seem to be making a dent in the massive army. Our only hope is to retreat and renew the attack later. 

“BACK TO THE HOW!” I shout to the Narnian army. They obey at once, running toward the stone entrance. The Telmarines try and stop us, sending more and more rocks flying through the air. One particularly large boulder hits one of the ledges of the how. The very ledge where Susan and the other archers are standing.

Time seems to slow down, each second crawling by. Rocks fly in slow motion; the minotaurs and fauns in front of me appear to be running though syrup.

Too late, they realize. 

The how is blocked. The entire entrance comes down, and with it the tree above Susan. Caspian and I can only look on, stunned and unable to move. If she’s hurt or...no. I can’t think like that. I have to be positive. 

My sister falls onto the next ledge, frantically looking for something to grasp onto. She finds a protruding stone and grabs on, and to my immense relief she is able to climb down. Susan rushes to my side, bow and arrows ready.

Then Ed is back at my other side, throwing down his crossbow and picking up his sword. And he’s looking at me with such determination, a look I saw many times during our reign. A look that propels me forward and gives me strength to fight on. A look that says, _we’re in this together no matter what_.

Su, Ed, Caspian, and I run into the fray. Because _nobody_ does this and gets away with it. All four of us have uncharacteristically fierce looks on our faces, ready to kill whoever comes near us. 

The fighting continues; with each passing moment I get more and more sure that this is an impossible feat. How can we possibly win against an army that never seems to end? The waves of Telmarine soldiers just keep coming, as if from some machine. Every time we defeat one, two more take his place.

I hear something behind me, something that is definitely not metal on metal. It sounds like...No, that’s not possible. I turn around, finding my suspicion to be true.

The trees have come to life. Wading through the earth as though through water, they effortlessly pick up enemy soldiers and ensnare them. “Lucy,” is all I’m able to say. Lucy must have had something to do with this, she must have gotten to Aslan. Nobody else could have awoken the trees.

This awakening gives us new hope. I know now that we can’t defeat the Telmarines without Aslan. I should have seen it before: Then Jadis never would have appeared and tempted me, the raid would not have been such a disaster. I can’t do everything alone. “for Aslan!” I yell as I run with Caspian at my heels, Ed and Su behind us, back into the fight. Maybe we can win this. 

The Telmarines rush off, scattering in the direction of the river. I do not like it, but we are forced to follow. The sight that greets us is not what I was expecting. 

There, at the end of the bridge, stands Lucy. Her face has a fierce expression on it, unlike her usual sweet-tempered ways. Thank Aslan she’s all right. Both armies stop short at the sight. Beside her is Aslan. At once a hopeful, comforting feeling washes over me. The great Lion surveys the two armies with an expression of mild interest. 

The Telmarines charge, apparently unafraid of a little girl and a lion. Even if that girl is very capable with a dagger. 

Aslan roars, making the Telmarines stop in their tracks, eyes wide and terrified of someone they can’t see. 

A river god rises from the surface of the river. The same shade of perfect blue-green as the water, the god grows until he is as tall as the surrounding trees. He picks up the bridge as if it is nothing more than a toothpick and lifts it over his head. The Telmarine soldiers who were on it slide off, struggling to remain on their horses. 

After the Telmarines have surrendered, after their weapons are confiscated, Susan, Caspian, Edmund, and I wade through the river to Lucy and Aslan. When we reach the great Lion, the four of us sink to our knees. “Rise, Kings and Queens of Narnia.” My brother, sister, and I rise at Aslan’s words. Caspian remains kneeling, face tilted toward the ground. “All of you.” Caspian stands unsteadily. “I do not think I am ready.” Aslan gazes at the Telmarine. “It is for that very reason you were chosen.”

This is what I have wanted for the last year. To stand in the presence of Aslan, for Him to help us. And here He is. He is helping us, just not in the 

way I expected. Things never happen the same way twice.

A few days ago I would have agreed with Caspian. Being the hypocrite I am, I would have said he’s too young, with no experience and no idea how to run a country. 

Five mice come up from the river, a stretcher between them. Laying on the stretcher is Reepicheep. I see the heartbreak spread onto Lucy’s face as the mouse is set on the ground in front of us. Quick as a flash, Lu has her cordial out and is pouring a drop into the mouse’s open mouth. 

Everyone watches with bated breath as Reep coughs, then sits up. Standing in front of Aslan, he says, “What an honor it is to stand in your presence.” The mouse, a little unsteady on his feet, looks behind him. His tail is missing. Obviously mortified, he stammers, “Forgive me for appearing in a most unseemly way.” Reepicheep wobbles on his feet, trying to stay balanced. “The tail is the honor and glory of a mouse.” 

“Perhaps a drop more?” Lucy looks at Reepicheep sadly. “I don’t think it does that.” Reep looks hopeful. “We could always try.” 

One of the other mice steps forward. Holding his sword against his tail, he squeaks, “We will cut off our tails as well, for we would never dream of having an honor denied to our chief.” 

Aslan gazes at the assembled mice. “Honor isn’t everything.” Reepicheep looks up at Aslan. “It’s not just honor, it’s also great for balance, and climbing. And grabbing things.” 

Aslan looks at Reepicheep, and a new tail appears on the mouse. Delighted, Reep squeaks, “I will treasure it always, and it will serve as a reminder of my allegiance to You.” 


	6. Long Live the King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author’s Note: Looks like it’s been about a century since I last updated...again. Life just got really crazy for a while, with trips and projects and final exams and whatnot. But now school is over. Honestly I’m not too happy with how this chapter turned out, mainly the Aslan part. It’s too choppy and messy. But I’m just done fiddling with it, so here it is.
> 
> I wanted to say that I left out the Suspian kiss. I said I wouldn’t write Suspian for a few reasons, and I stand by that; even if a story that I want to stay as close to the movie as possible has to become slightly AU. So I guess this is a slightly AU chapter in a story that is movie-cannon, if that makes any sense.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: All rights to C.S. Lewis and Walden Media. I did take Aslan quotes from the VODT book. The book quotes belong to C.S. Lewis. The PC and LWW movie dialogue I took belongs to Walden Media. The lyrics are from “Time of Our Lives” by Tyrone Wells.

_“Man is the only animal that laughs and weeps, for he is the only animal that is struck with the difference between what things are and what they ought to be.” -William Hazlitt_

Riding down the Telmarine street, with the crowds cheering and everyone happy, I finally feel like a king again.This is what I have wanted since we got back to England: recognition for my accomplishments; to feel like a king again. Susan rides next to me, Caspian leads looking far happier than I’ve seen him, and Edmund and Lucy follow. Everything has been put right. 

But I can sense, somehow, that our time here is almost up. Maybe it’s that we aren’t needed any more, there’s nothing more for us to do. We saved the day against all odds, just as royalty are supposed to do. We brought peace back to Narnia and put the rightful king on the throne, bringing hope back to a land that had just about given up.

The four-_five_-of us even look more like royalty in our formal outfits than we did before. All of our outfits resemble the ones we wore during the Golden Age. A reminder of an age long gone when a new one is beginning. 

Only these outfits have a slightly more Telmarine look, almost more modern than our old royal clothes. More Renaissance and less Medieval. Yet another sign of a changing Narnia.

Our numbers have decreased by so many since my siblings and I arrived. So many Narnians gone, never to see loved ones again. So many Narnians killed because of my rash decisions.

Aslan walks up to me and Susan as we near the castle. “Come and walk with me,” He says. We make our way into the courtyard, where Aslan stops.

“You are too old, children, and you must begin to become close to your world. Your brother and sister will come back someday. But you older two will not.”

I feel Susan take my hand before she speaks the Lion, tears shining in her eyes. “It isn’t Narnia we’ll miss, it’s _you_. We won’t meet you in England.” 

Aslan looks at my sister kindly, his eyes warm. “Oh, but you will. In your world, I have a different name. You must learn to know me by that name. That is the very reason you were brought to Narnia: By knowing me here for a little, you could know me better there.”

I look at Aslan, hoping He will answer my question, yet knowing that He will not. “Please, Sir, what is your name in our world?”

“I cannot tell you, only that you must find out on your own. It is better that way.”

Susan and I walk with Aslan for a while, listening to his reassurances. He tells us that staying in Narnia would not be good for us; we would forget our world and those in it. We cannot afford to forget England, we must become close to the people and our family there. If we are constantly focused on Narnia, we can never grow up in our world. We will live a half-life, not fully knowing the potentials of our world.

“Your world may surprise you, dear hearts. You never know what you might find there. Sometimes it can even be as magical as Narnia. Do not forget Narnia, for once a king or queen of Narnia, always a king or queen.”

Tears spring to Susan’s eyes, and Aslan moves closer to her, breathing on her face. “Don’t cry, child. You will be reunited with me someday. But first you must grow closer to your world and know me there. It is all for the best.” 

Susan nods, but doesn’t look too convinced. I feel a surge of jealousy rush through me. _Why do Ed and Lucy get to come back? What did Susan and I do to deserve banishment from our home? _The jealousy is quickly replaced by shame. Who am I to be feeling jealous of my siblings, when I have my own journey to complete?

************

“Any Telmarines who want to stay and live in peace are welcome. For any of you who wish, Aslan will provide a new home.” Caspian speaks from a stone platform overlooking the Telmarine city. The remaining Telmarines are gathered below, awaiting the verdict. I notice Caspian fingering his sword in a nervous habit. Ed and I do it too, it must come with having the sword at your hip all the time.

Caspian told us the plan last night, so none of this surprises me. He came to us asking advice, even though he’s already a king. He knows what is best for Narnia. He just doesn’t know it yet. 

Noticing Caspian’s hesitance, Aslan takes over. “Your ancestors were pirates, run aground on an island. On that island they found a cave, a rare place that brought them here from the same world as our kings and queens. This island is a good place for those who wish to make a new start.” 

I stand somewhat dumbfounded, processing this new information. The Telmarines’ ancestors came from Earth? They’re obviously human, but I’d never really thought to wonder where they came from. It’s like the Archenlanders--they’ve just always been here.

The Telmarine general who killed Miraz steps forward. “I will go. I will accept this offer.” Miraz’s wife also comes forward, her baby in her arms. “So will we.” Aslan gazes intently at the Telmarines. “Your future in that world will be good, for you have spoken first.” 

I catch Susan’s eye, and know she’s thinking the same thing I am. Even though I know what’s coming, I step forward and address Aslan. “We’ll go.”

I can feel Edmund’s and Lucy’s shocked eyes on me, but I don’t look at them. I know I’m making the right decision, even if I don’t like it. Even if I’m causing pain in my siblings’ hearts. 

Our time’s up; our job here is done. Now all that’s left is the hardest part: saying goodbye.

_This is where the chapter ends_

_A new one now begins_

_The time has come for letting go_

_The hardest part is when you know_

_All of these years when we were here_

_Are ending, but I'll always remember_

_We have had the time of our lives_

_Now the page is turned_

_The stories we will write_

_We have had the time of our lives_


	7. No Need to Say Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author’s Note: I can’t believe it...after more than a year and a half, this is the final chapter. I’m sad to see this finished, I honestly could not bring myself to finish it for the longest time. I spent a year writing this chapter, and I’m immensely proud of how it turned out.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: The Chronicles of Narnia and all related people, places, and events belong to C.S. Lewis and Walden Media and I make no profit from this story. The title comes from “The Call” by Regina Spektor.

_“It takes a minute to say hello and forever to say goodbye.” _

_-Anurag Gupta_

I lay on my bed in the dorm Edmund and I share. After a lot of begging and pleading, we convinced Mum and the school to let us share. My face is buried in my pillow and it’s hot and stuffy under the covers, but I don’t emerge. 

My thoughts, as is often the case, are far away from this room, in a world a wardrobe away: Narnia. The land my brother, sisters, and I ruled over for years. Our home when our other home was being torn apart and the one place where we had been truly happy.

Now Susan and I can’t go back. We’ve been banned from the land we love. I never thought I wouldn’t be able to return home again. Even when Aslan told me and Susan we weren’t coming back, I thought that maybe, somehow, I’d get to return to Narnia again. I should know by now that Aslan has never lied to me or anyone else, nor does He do anything without reason.

The Lion’s words are still ringing though my head. _You must grow closer to your world and know me there...Your world may surprise you, dear hearts. You never know what you might find there...Do not forget Narnia, for once a king or queen of Narnia, always a king or queen..._

_Never coming back. _

I struggle to accept this turn of fate. Sadness and anger mix in my heart, turning to stone and settling there, weighing down my very being and making breathing difficult. How do you say goodbye to a place and a people that meant so much to you? A place you spent fifteen years ruling and a people you’d grown to love and respect? My subjects, my _friends_, whom I have been forced to abandon not once but _twice_. Tears travel in tracks down my face and I take deep breaths, trying in vain to calm my choked sobs.

When we arrived back at the station, it was as if no time had passed, just like when we came out of the wardrobe. Everyone was bustling around, not even sparing us a second glance. Which I think was for the better, because I’m pretty sure we looked pretty shaken up and people tend to ask awkward questions when faced with something they don’t--or can’t--understand. 

I hear the sound of footsteps in the hall and the door opening. I know who it is, but I don’t emerge from my cocoon. I memorized his footsteps years ago. I don’t want to face my brother, not now. I feel certain that eye contact with Edmund will cause me to break. Yet there is so much that we need to talk about, so much that I have to explain to him and tell him before it’s too late. 

From the sounds, I gather that Edmund has placed his bag on his desk and is now sitting on his own bed, waiting for me to emerge. I sigh, removing my head from under the blankets and hastily scrubbing the tears off my face. The cool air feels welcome on my hot face. Edmund is looking at me and waiting for me to speak. I try to keep my face clear of emotion, but Ed’s always been able to read me. It’s no use trying to hide anything from him because it never works. Nobody else has this affect on me--then again, nobody else knows me like Edmund does. 

I don’t meet my brother’s eyes, but turn toward the wall. “You don’t have to hide from me,” Edmund says to my back.

I turn my head so I can see my brother, my body still toward the wall. “Who said anything about hiding?”

“You’ve been avoiding me ever since we got back. I’d just like to know what I did to earn that,” Edmund states simply.

I sigh. It’s true, even though I didn’t exactly intend it to be. I just couldn’t handle what I knew I’d see in his eyes: confidence and relief and sadness and so much more. I couldn’t handle the change that I knew would be there, how much I’ve truly _hurt_ Edmund over the last year and how our bond will never be the same. There will always be this thing between us; the fact that he can go back and I cannot, and I might slip back into my old ways and lash out at everyone and everything just to feel like I’m home again because of it. I want our old bond back so much it hurts, and I intend to do everything I can to make that happen. I’ve come to depend on Edmund more over the years (Narnia time) than I would ever have thought possible before Narnia. 

I fear that we’ll lose this bond more than I’ve let on. I’m afraid that I won’t be strong enough to survive banishment from my home--because that’s what it is: _banishment_. Or at least what it feels like. I know Aslan has a plan for us and that I will not always understand why He does what He does. I learned that over our fifteen years in Narnia; I accepted it and trusted Aslan with my life and fate, and the lives and fates of my siblings and friends. 

“You didn’t do anything. I just...” I trail off. I don’t think I can talk about Narnia just yet. I can feel Edmund looking at me expectantly. I finally turn to face him fully, but turn back almost right away, caught off guard by the intensity in his dark eyes. Nobody else has this affect on me, nobody else can get me to talk when I don’t want to and make my masks and walls crumble with a mere glance. “Fine. I haven’t acted much like a king or a brother this last year. I’ve been beastly to everyone, but especially to you.”

“Why were you acting like that? I’d hoped you could see that England was just another challenge that had to be faced head-on like any other challenge we faced in Narnia. I’d hoped you would realize that you could still be the High King, even if we weren’t in Narnia.” Edmund’s gaze never leaves my face, searching for emotion that I refuse to let show.

“I was angry,” I reply immediately, sitting up against the wall and facing Edmund at last. “At being kicked out of Narnia, at everyone who treated me like a child, at Aslan for letting this all happen. I _wanted _to be king in England, I just didn’t know how to live up to Aslan’s and everyone else’s expectations. You and the girls were handling things so well and I wasn’t. I’m the oldest, I should have been able to handle everything better. I didn’t like that you three could handle everything so well while I was falling apart. So I acted out and got into fights wanting to feel in control and on top, but instead I just made everything _worse_.” 

Edmund sighs, slightly exasperated. “We _weren’t_ handing everything perfectly. We were all hurting, Peter. There were so many times we’d just sit up together, talking. Lucy always blamed herself for our departure, and she cried a lot, especially at first. We were just as annoyed at being treated like kids and not taken seriously. When you started drifting away, things only got worse. You have no idea how much we wanted you with us.”

The more I talk, the more I feel like a weight is being lifted off my chest. “You’ve suffered for my stupidity. _I_ dragged you into all those fights and I couldn’t be a comfort to any of you. I was lost, and I wasn’t about to accept anyone’s help. I wanted so badly to be able to help you, to somehow make everything better. I was so caught up in my own suffering I didn’t notice yours. I ignored everyone else for my own wants. I abandoned Aslan when I needed Him the most.”

“Did you expect me to just stand by and watch while you got beaten? I vowed that I would protect you, with my life if necessary. Why did you give up on Aslan?” Edmund asks quietly.

Shame and even a little fear rise in my throat, threatening to overcome me and snap my already frayed composure. My voice remains steady until the end, something for which I am thankful. “When we got back, I thought I could fix everything. I thought I needed nobody’s help because I was a king, I shouldn’t _need_ help. I resented that I used to know every tree and rock in the woods, every Talking Animal and Dryad, and now it was like being in a foreign country. I thought I would be coming to home to the same Narnia, only to find myself in a different one altogether: _Caspian’s_ Narnia. I felt abandoned by Aslan. He was there to help us get you back and fight the White Witch the first time, so where was He when we had to fight the Telmarines? Yes, He hadn’t been there for every battle during our reign, but this time we _needed _Him, and He wasn’t there. We were fighting _for _Him, and He wasn’t doing anything to help us.” Talking about this to Edmund is strangely therapeutic, calming my nerves but at the same time making me want to hide under my covers and run from the problem. 

Edmund’s face takes on a look of dawning understanding. He seems to sense how nervous I am. I can’t remember the last time I felt _nervous _around my brother. Yet, here I am, hardly able to look him in the eye because of the pain I’ve caused him, Susan, and Lucy. “I felt the same way. I knew Aslan had a plan, but I didn’t understand it. He must have known we could do it alone or He wouldn’t have let us. Why weren’t you able to trust Caspian? There always seemed to be tension between you when we needed you to get along. If not for your own sakes, then for the sake of the cause. We needed leaders, and together you were the perfect people for the job.”

I let out a sigh to calm my breathing and press on. “I knew our reign was over, I just didn’t want to accept it. So I continued on as if nothing had changed, but of course everything had, it was a different Narnia. I knew we would have to rely on Trumpkin and Caspian, and I didn’t want to do that. It seemed like Caspian was going to be more useful than me, and I wanted to be the one to lead us to success. I saw Caspian as a threat to my power, and I felt like my experience was being disregarded. Last year, all I wanted was to be back in Narnia as her High King. When I finally got back, it was to find that we weren’t in power anymore. Everyone looked to Caspian as their king, but I was there, I was still High King. What got me was that we were there to get Caspian on the throne, nothing else. We had to hand over our kingdom, our _home_, to a complete stranger.”

Edmund bites his lip, glancing at the wall just above my head before looking back at me. “At the raid on Miraz’s castle, what scared me the most was that I couldn’t understand why you were doing what you were doing. Even your fighting style was different. Less strategized, but with no less skill. You were fighting without really thinking about it, just charging through the fray. Why didn’t you call it off when we were so clearly losing? Where was the High King I knew and loved, who wouldn’t waste time and lives on raids that were doomed to fail?”

Memories of the soldiers, forced to stay behind, waiting for their deaths flash before my eyes. Fighting to keep the tremor out of my voice, I answer, “I wanted to prove that we didn’t_ mean_ to leave, like Trumpkin obviously thought. I felt like the raid had to be successful in order for me to prove I was still a king who was capable of leading his soldiers to victory no matter what the odds.”

Edmund comes over to my bed and sits next to me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. He looks at me intently, searching my face. I force myself to look back, and it’s all I can do to stop myself from hiding under the covers again.

“Trumpkin only believed us after you beat him in single combat. He could not believe that four kids were the Kings and Queens of Old, the stuff of legends. Everyone only listened to me once they found out who I was. I envied Caspian: he was smart, a good fighter, and everyone listened to him. They looked to him before they looked to us. Nobody had to be told who he was, they just _knew_. I _knew _I was wrong, but it was just easier to stay mad and blame Caspian rather than to admit I was wrong and confront the problem. I thought being in Narnia would make everything better, like everything would just magically fall into place and we would be home again and everything would be like it used to be. After the raid it was like all the frustration I had felt at finding Narnia _different _and my jealousy of Caspian had finally burst. I needed someone to blame and Caspian was right there. I wasn’t what Narnia needed anymore. I didn’t--_don’t_\--belong in England, and I came back to Narnia to find I didn’t truly belong there, either.” 

Even I can hear my voice crack. Tears fill my eyes, and I look at the wall, the ceiling, the floor, anywhere but at Edmund. I know his eyes are full of understanding and forgiveness that I don’t deserve.

“Is that why you tried to release the White Witch when you knew what she did the first time? You _knew _the effect she had on me!” I chance a look at Edmund, but his eyes are so full of pain that I have to avert my eyes, too ashamed to look my brother in the face. 

I know now is the time to come clean, no matter how hard it is. Edmund needs to know. “I thought raising her would bring the old Narnia back. I...I wanted all the power for myself, and she would help me get rid of Caspian. I came to my senses too late. I expected you to hate me…for what I could have done and what I did. I knew I had to tell you eventually, I just didn’t know how. So I avoided the situation until right before the duel...I was sure I was going to die, and I didn’t want to die without making things right with you.”

I close my eyes for moment before reopening them. Edmund is still staring at me, waiting for me to continue. “Jadis promised me power. She made me believe I could be king again--without Caspian trying, as I saw it, to take my place. I needed someone to believe in when I thought Aslan had abandoned us, and she was right there. I think she also hypnotized me or something. So much of it’s a blur. Even after I didn’t know why I would try to release her. I imagined what would have happened if y-you and L-Lucy hadn’t gotten there in time.”

I pause, taking deep breaths, forcing the tears back into my eyes and the images out of my mind. “I imagined Jadis returning and Narnia once again doomed to endless winter. You being forced to d-die on the Stone Table and the girls and I forced to watch before being k-killed as well.” 

What haunts me most about those visions, or dreams, or whatever they were was that I had _wanted _Edmund killed. I had wanted him out of the way and out of my hair so _I _could have all the power. 

This realization sickens me. It makes my head hurt and my eyes burn and a lump form in my throat. It makes me want to be sick and cry and throw things and hide and punch a wall all at once. I can’t stop the tears leaking out of my eyes and running down my face. 

Edmund moves closer to me, pressing his legs against mine and wrapping his arms around me. “I wanted so badly to talk to you, to help you in some way. But every time I tried, you just pushed me away. And that hurt. I missed how close we used to be and how we used to be able to talk to each other about anything. I couldn’t help but wonder where the High King I knew and loved had gone. Where was my brother and best friend, with whom I could just sit and be silent or just have fun? You forgave me after I betrayed you, the girls, Aslan, and all of Narnia when you had no reason to. How can I _not_ forgive you? Pete, you are the High King, if nothing else I should forgive you for that reason. Even when we can’t be in Narnia, _you’re still king_. But you’re so much more than that. You’re my brother and my best friend, and I couldn’t ask for a better one. Narnia couldn’t ask for a better High King. Susan, Lucy, Aslan, and even Caspian would agree.” Edmund speaks with overwhelming faith, confidence, and sincerity. 

Shame and guilt expand inside me until I have to bite my cheek hard to stop myself from screaming and crying. Why isn’t Edmund angry? Why isn’t he yelling at me, shouting at me to get out of his life? After the way I treated him, I deserve nothing less. It _hurts_ to hear Edmund speak so highly of me. How could he say any of that? I have been a terrible High King and an even worse brother. After all I did to him, Edmund never lost faith or confidence in me. He never stopped trusting me even when I wouldn’t trust him. 

“How can you say that?” The words are barely more than a whisper choked through something like a sob. I don’t deserve anyone’s faith or confidence or _trust_, least of all Edmund’s. 

“Because it’s true,” Edmund states firmly, tightening his arms around my waist. I return the gesture, resting my head on his shoulder. However much I tried to deny it, I’ve craved this for the last year, this closeness Ed and I used to share; his quiet affection and ability to read my thoughts and the days we spent with only each other for company. “You’ve always been there, whenever we needed you, whenever _I _needed you, no matter what. You always put your country and your family first. Yes, you left us for a while, but you came back and that’s what matters.”

I think I’m finally beginning to understand why he has accepted what I have done and forgiven me so completely, without resolution or hesitation of any kind. It’s for the same reason I forgave him all those years ago (or was it only a year?): he’s my only brother, and I love him. I couldn’t _not _forgive him, just as he can’t _not _forgive me. I know my brother almost as well as I know myself, and certainly better than anyone else knows him, even Susan and Lucy. Ed certainly knows me better than anyone else does and sometimes better than I know myself. Ed and I have had experiences that only the other could ever understand. 

Narnia was the link to these experiences and everything we burned into our memories because it would be a crime to forget them. The wars, the long, grueling hours of campaigns in the north, the sweltering heat of the Calormen desert. The feeling of chains on your wrists and ankles, the horror of seeing friends die right before your eyes, holding your brother or even your sister as the life bled out of them and knowing you were powerless to stop it until the magic cordial arrived. The pain of stabbing and being stabbed. The feasts and balls, the coronation, Christmas at Cair Paravel, the sound of Aslan’s roar and the feel of His mane against your skin. The waves of the Eastern Sea slamming against the beach, early mornings in the training yard with Orieus, the visitors from and visits to other nations, the open sea stretched in front of you aboard the _Splendor Hyaline_. Without Narnia, I’m afraid I’ll forget what happened and everything I’ve forced myself to remember: the proof that Narnia really does exist and it wasn’t all just a dream.

I tell this to Edmund, my voice sounding painfully shaky and vulnerable even to me. Despite my best efforts, a few tears make their way down my face. “We won’t forget,” he replies after a long moment. “We can talk about it every day and tell the stories so we won’t forget.” 

We spend the rest of the night in my bed, sharing stories and memories of fifteen years gone by and for the first time in a year I feel like I’m home. 


End file.
